Since last we spoke...

*
THURSDAY

Thursday, June 10. Brad's birthday. He worked half a day, and I managed to pull myself up and shake off the cobwebs. I even styled my hair and put on makeup. The mood was fairly stable and serene.

We went to lunch at South City Kitchen, which was quite tasty. While eating, Brad began to gaze out the window. He said, "That guy looks a lot like the lead singer for Stray Cats."

I turned to look. And immediately regressed to the spastic 13 year-old who was in love with Brian Setzer. "OH MY GOD!! AHHHH!!"

Alas, I was far too chicken to actually get up and go speak to him. So I merely worshipped him from afar.

FRIDAY

No celebrity sightings that day. Brad stayed home from work and we hung around the house most of the day. Later in the afternoon, we went out and saw Harry Potter (best one so far, I might add--as does most of the viewership, so it isn't an original thought.) Afterwards, I bought new pillowcases to match our recently acquired Claret-red faux-silk comforter, while Brad lollied around the recliners.

Around 4pm, I began to have a meltdown. It had been exactly one week since the d&c and the wave of emotions took me down. I had also realized that, according to the ultrasound measurements, our baby had died on a Saturday. The Saturday Brad and I had ventured to look at cribs.

It was too much. We went home.

SATURDAY

I was feeling better, emotionally. The storm had passed. In fact, I felt better physically.

We walked to our friend's restaurant for breakfast, Ria's Bluebird Cafe. After slamming back a sauteed veggie benedict and a short stack of pecan pancakes, we walked across the street to Oakland Cemetery (where Margaret Mitchell and Bobby Jones are buried).

A month or so before, Brad blew the whistle on a vandal who had destroyed a tombstone in this historic cemetery. As a reward, he was invited to become a member of their historic society (which includes complimentary tours). So we went by the office and filled out the paperwork. We were going to attend a tour that night but...

The bleeding and cramping began around 5pm. It was the worst to date. Apparently I had become way too cocky and thought I had control over my body again, and thus did too much. Brad ran out for a few groceries and *mwah!!* liquor.

One painkiller, two naproxen and two glasses of wine later, the cramps were gone. But they left their good buddy Migraine to close shop. Way to end the evening.

CAT STORY

Before the headache really got a good footing, though, our youngest cat, Nixon (4 years old), put on a comedy show.

While walking home from the cemetery, I found this on the sidewalk. A child's stuffed snake. Thinking our cats would dig playing with it, I took it home and threw it into the washing machine (even our cats benefit from my germphobia.)

After a thorough cleaning, I tossed it into the kitchen floor and then forgot about it. An hour later, Nixon's spastic tirade began. I can only assume she thought it was a real snake. She smacked at it, approached it in stealthy flat-cat mode, then got close enough to BITE it!! She bit the end and dragged it through the house, freaking out the whole time because it was following her (nevermind that she still had it in her mouth.) Each time she smacked at it, her claw would catch and of course, the snake would fling towards her, sending her into hysterics.

The other cats couldn't understand why she was reacting like this to a stuffed snake. They even took turns taunting her by pouncing on it and kicking it and then giving Nixon a look of pity. We pride ourselves with having smart-ass cats.

Thinking the event would be erased from her memory overnight, I tossed the snake into the floor this morning... and she is entertaining me with the snake dance once more. And honestly, I can't imagine when, if ever, she has seen a real snake. But this is one helluvan entertaining show.